In search of STONEWALL

It seemed like an easy enough assignment: preview this weekend’s annual Michigan Pride Festival in the 40th anniversary year of the Stonewall riots. And who better to cover such a topic than City Pulse’s resident drag hag? It was a perfect opportunity to chat with the ladies about history, heels and hairpieces. I imagined the glowing testimonies I’d hear about those crazy bitches that took on the establishment at the Stonewall Inn in 1969.

Arguably the most significant event in the history of gay rights, Stonewall was nicknamed “The Hairpin Drop Heard Round the World,” as it ushered in the “out” era for lesbians, gays, bisexuals and transgender individuals. When drag queens and gays in New York City’s Greenwich Village were pushed to the limit one summer night in 1969, they planted their heels and pushed back hard, taking their cause to the streets ­— changing the direction of gay advocacy forever.

As I delved into the assignment, I was shocked to find that Stonewall isn’t all that well known. From a gaggle of drag queens to a flock of college deans to my own newshound father, reactions to my questions about the riot varied from “I don’t remember that,” to downcast eyes and sheepish admissions of, “I know I should know more, but I don’t,” to “Oh, yeah, I saw that movie!” Realizing that the straight, square, white girl knew more about the pivotal gay rights movement than the people it benefited most, I started to worry about the state of the gay nation. The worry was premature.

Life Before Stonewall

In an alternate reality where Stonewall didn’t happen, life for members of the LGBT community in Lansing might be different today. In that world, Spiral Video Dance Bar would be an unmarked-hole in the wall in a rundown Old Town that you would need a password to enter.

Inside, Spiral would be dingy and black light-lit and men would be dancing slowly with men, women with women, queens with men, and queens with queens. It would be their only safe place — and even it wasn’t safe.

If there was a police raid, the house lights would flash on, couples would quickly uncouple, clothing would be adjusted and regular drag queens like Karma and Delicious would yank off their wigs and wipe off their lipstick. The police would order everyone to line up at the bar with their identifications out. Athena and London Prestige, in full female drag and without ID, would be taken into the bathroom to have their sex determined by a female officer. Once discovered to be men, they would be arrested.

Nearby, a simultaneous raid would occur at The Chrome Cat. Lesbians would have to prove their sex by exhibiting three pieces of feminine cloth ing, and the softball team, still in uniform from their victory that afternoon, would be doomed. One cop would cop a feel while doing a pat down.

“This one’s a girl, although just barely!” he would snicker.

After the cops leave, the bartenders would restock the shelves from a hidden backroom stash, the lights would be turned off and the slow dancing would start up again.

That was what gay life in Greenwich Village — now arguably the most openly gay place on Earth — was like in the late 1960s. The few gay safe spots were equivalent to prohibition-era speakeasies. There are allegations that the mob owned most gay bars, not because they were sympathetic to the cause of gays, but because they never met a niche market they didn’t like. It seemed that a delicate balance existed between the cops, organized crime and the gay community.

On one night, everything changed.

The Stonewall Riots

“When did you ever see a fag fight back? Now, times were a-changin’. Tuesday night was the last night for bullshit. Predominantly, the theme was, ‘this shit has got to stop!’" — Anonymous riot participant, from David Carter’s book, “Stonewall: The Riots that Sparked the Gay Revolution”

Up until 1 a.m. on June 28, 1969, it had been an ordinary evening at the Stonewall Inn. But a surprise raid — patrons were usually tipped off — changed everything. At first, it was a raid as usual: patrons lined up at the bar, drag queens were separated and liquor was seized.

But then a person or multiple people decided that enough was enough. Theories vary on what the fuse was. All witnesses acknowledge that some extra spark of outrage lit a powder keg of emotion.

As people were being led out of the bar to a police wagon, a scuffle ensued. Patrons did not simply disperse; they stayed in the street shouting at police. Coins were thrown at the cops, a symbolic reaction to the practice of “gayola,” or gay bars paying off the police to prevent raids.

Tension mounted, and homeless gay teens from Christopher Park across the street joined in the melee. Violence against the police intensified and they were forced to barricade themselves inside the Stonewall Inn, waiting for backup.

As the reinforcements arrived and began marching down the street to scatter the protesters, they were suddenly faced with a kick line of drag queens, dancing and singing:

The riot was eventually quashed that evening, but over the next five nights, protests and riots of various sizes occurred in the neighborhood and beyond. As word got out in the press, the crowds grew. The riots ceased after July 3, but the camaraderie that they created evolved into something else, something that lasted.

After Stonewall

"Let it forever be remembered that here — on this spot — men and women stood proud, they stood fast, so that we may be who we are, we may work where we will, live where we choose and love whom our hearts desire.” — M. John Berry, assistant secretary of the Department of the Interior, at a 1999 ceremony honoring the addition of the Stonewall Inn to the National Register of Historic Places.

Before Stonewall, conservative gay rights groups like the Mattachine Society had been trying to win rights and social acceptance by holding quiet, dignified pickets in citieslike Philadelphia. The Mattachine’s method of operation was to try toshow the world that gays were not different, but its efforts madelittle progress. In the span of a few nights, angry gays and dragqueens made more progress by showing the world the exact opposite. Themessage they sent was, “We’re not like you, we look like this, andwe’re not going to hide any more.” Gay rights advocacy groups learnedthat they were more likely to gain rights by being out and about, andthe era of gay pride marches began.

One year after Stonewall,the Christopher Street Liberation Day March was held — the mother ofgay pride marches. Two years hence, marches spread across the nationand into Europe and membership in gay rights groups skyrocketed acrosswestern nations.

The first gay march in Michigan happened in1971. In 1989 — the 20th anniversary of Stonewall — the Statewide PrideMarch moved to Lansing and has since been an annual event.

Asthe application to the National Register of Historic Places points out,the Stonewall Riots were to gay rights what Rosa Parks was to blackrights, or the Boston Tea Party was to the American Revolution. Yetthis critical event isn’t discussed in American history textbooks andisn’t included in the curriculum of public schools. The lucky few whotake a human sexuality or civil rights class in college might learnabout Stonewall.

In Search of Stonewall in Lansing

Beforethis story, I had a sketchy memory of reading about Stonewall someyears ago in a travel guide for New York City. I decided I’d better domy homework before heading out to Spiral to photograph the “Drag QueensGone Wild” show that took place three weeks ago. I want to make a goodimpression on the ladies, I thought.

Internet searches onGoogle, Wikipedia (which has a very thorough entry) and YouTube turnedup various accounts of Stonewall. I was disappointed to find no periodfootage on YouTube, but there is an entertaining history as told in thevideo, “Varla Jean Merman’s Stonewall.” Another video utilizes KenBurns-style photomontages and posits that the riots may have beeninfluenced by the angst caused by Judy Garland’s death five days prior.Gay writer Toby Johnson thinks the gay icon’s funeral played a keyrole: “What happened is that earlier that the day, Friday, June 27th,1969, a great many men from the Village flocked to Judy Garland’sfuneral at a upper Eastside funeral parlor at Madison Ave and 81st.What impressed them — and in the early hours of the next day, mobilizedthem to resist the police raid on the Stonewall Inn — wasn’t Garland’sdivahood (afterall, it had been her downfall), but rather the number of other gay menthey saw at the event. These were Garland’s fans. There were crowds ofhomosexuals recognizing each other on the street in front of thefuneral parlor.

“Garland’s funeral turned out to be a sort ofproto-gay pride event. And it demonstrated there was power in numbers —that was something ’in the air’ in those days as one anti-warmobilization after another demonstrated how many people were‘anti-establishment.’”

There are two documentaries, “BeforeStonewall” and “After Stonewall,” and the fictional movie “Stonewall.”No library in Michigan has either of the documentaries, but Video to Gohas “Stonewall.”

The movie reflects well the LGBT lifestyle inGreenwich Village prior to June 28, 1969, and ends at the openingmoments of the riot. It was slightly disappointing to find that theBritish Broadcasting Corp., not an American media outlet, produced themovie.

Let down bypopular media, I placed my hopes on the drag queens to educate me. Indoing so, I set myself up for disappointment again. The hours I spentwatching them prepare for “Drag Queens Gone Wild” at Spiral was fun andfascinating. The drag queens were excited about the upcomingPride weekend, yet when I ask about its origins I got shrugs.

“You knowabout Stonewall, right?” I said.

“Oh, yeah, I saw the movie,” Eva, adrag queen, said.

Most of the queens, I realized, were all under 30.None have known a world where being gay was illegal. In fact, many ofthem were out and accepted in high school. I can’t fault them for beingunaware, because this is a part of history that isn’t taught in school.Unless a gay mentor comes along and teaches them about the past, howwould they know what they’re missing?

“I think it’s my responsibilityto teach young gays and lesbians about the past, in a nurturing way,”Roxanne Frith, a member of the outreach subcommittee of Michigan Pride,the nonprofit organization that stages annual celebration, said. “Itake people under my wing. I guess it’s the teacher in me!”

Chrome Catco-owner Michelle Taylor, 39, wins the prize for knowing the most aboutStonewall.

"It was a little bar. There was a rebellion thereone night because they got tired of the cops coming in, harassing themand beating them,” Taylor said.

Monique Goch, 40, outreach coordinatorfor Michigan Pride, admits that she should know more about the actualriots. Despite being hazy on the details, she recognizes thesignificance of Stonewall.

“Without those events happening, we wouldn’tbe where we are today,” Goch says. “We can be out comfortably in mostsituations, that is becoming part of the norm in society. Without(Stonewall), I don’t know where we would be today.”

WithoutStonewall, we wouldn’t be able to gaze openly at drag sisters Athenaand Eva Angelica. Born as half-brothers named Chris and Nick Steele,respectively, they evolved into sisters as each entered the world offemale impersonation, and they reflect the range of interest in theworld of drag.

Big sister Athena, 24, considers herself a femaleimpersonator, dressing only to perform. Baby sister Eva, 21, would dodrag on a daily basis if it were more acceptable.

Michigan Pride

Eva takes pride in her role in Pride.

“Dragqueens are one of the first icons for gay culture. They pushhomosexuality and pride out there. That’s why I go to every singlePride event in face. I’ve never gone as a boy,” he said.

With theirflamboyant sassy flair, drag queens make photo subjects, which is goodand bad for the LGBT community; itensuresmedia coverage but can reinforce the stereotype that all gay men wantto be women. In truth, the LGBT community is as diverse as the straightcommunity. Flaming or feminine, swishy or masculine, in suits orspandex, they just want the same rights as breeders.

“We havesomething to march for, and that’s equality. We’re progressivelygetting somewhere, day by day, state by state, city by city,” Athenasaid.

Thinking ahead, she realizes there is still work to be done. “I’mgetting to that point, where I’m thinking about marriage.”

“Untilwe actually get the states to say that (denying marriage rights togays) is absolutely wrong, it’s going to be that slow evolution thathas taken us 40 years to get to this point,” Taylor said.

“Hopefullyit’s very shortly around the corner for the last step.”

Goch echoesthat sentiment. “I’m optimistic that things will change faster than weexpect.” If that barrier falls soon, will there be a 50th anniversarymarch? Will there be a point to Pride?

“I think we’ ll always have aPride march,” Goch says.

“Until you change minds,” not just laws,Taylor agrees.

After playing back the interviews, cullingthrough the photos from Spiral and talking to people about Stonewall,most of my disappointment fades and is replaced by a sense of wonder ofthe long-lasting impact of the event. It’s not a perfect world, yet,but we’ve come a long way.

"Ithink it’s good to Ace Deville (Tony Allen) studies her contours lookback over those before the Drag Queens Gone Wild show. 40 years to seehow far we’ve come. Those people that went before us gave us a chanceto be a lot more vocal and a lot more protected,” Taylor said.

$50 per person. $70 per couple. White Party 8p.m. (Check each venue for exact times.) Benefit for Lansing Area AIDSNetwork. Featuring four different Old Town venues for one price. Liveentertainment at Spiral Video Dance Bar (the Perry Twins and DJSymbol), The Chrome Cat (Nervous But Excited, Mimi Gonzalez), EsquireBar (White out with the guys), and Grand Café (The Kathy Ford Band). Awristband for all is $10. 21 .

Saturday June 13 March to the Capitol Startingat noon at Riverfront Park. Parade float participation is $25. Walkersare free. Rally at the Capitol follows the March.